


Family

by constipatedmuse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crying, Gen, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22919998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constipatedmuse/pseuds/constipatedmuse
Summary: When Watson saw the woman sitting on a bench, quietly weeping, he couldn't help but ask her what was wrong. He routinely spent time with sociopaths and psychopaths, but he wasn't one himself.
Relationships: John Watson & Original Female Character(s), John Watson & Reader, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson & Original Female Character, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson & Reader, Sherlock Holmes & Original Female Character(s), Sherlock Holmes & Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this is going anywhere, but I recently lost a friend and thought working things out with the Baker boys might help. If you have any ideas or suggestions, please message or comment. I'm great with openings, but I suck at endings.

When Watson saw the woman sitting on a bench, quietly weeping, he couldn't help but ask her what was wrong. He routinely spent time with sociopaths and psychopaths, but he wasn't one himself. He had to try to help.  
He put his hand on the back of the bench next to her. "What's wrong?"  
She looked up at him and quickly brushed the tears away from her cheek with her left hand. She offered him a fake smile and answered in an American accent. "Nothing. I'm just…" she looked around, trying to think of an excuse. She gestured feebly when she didn't find one.  
"You've run out of places to cry in America and decided to try crying abroad?"  
She snorted and finished wiping away her tears. "Something like that." She scooted down and offered the bench to him.  
He sank down next to her and stuck out his hand. "I'm John."  
She smiled, a bit more genuinely this time and took his hand. "I'm Y/N. Good to meet you."  
They sat there in silence for a moment, just staring straight ahead, until he couldn't take it anymore.  
"Can I get you a cuppa or something? I live right around the block," he said. "Oh, but what am I thinking? You're not comfortable coming to the flat of a random person in another country. I'll just go buy --"  
She stopped him with a raised hand. "A cuppa would be great. And what are the odds of us both being serial killers?"  
He stiffened and blinked a couple of times. Then, he relaxed. "You're not a killer."  
She furrowed her brows. "I was just kidding."  
"Yeah, I just… Yeah, I get that, now." He stood up and offered her his arm.  
She stood up and threaded her arm through his. "Lead on," she said.  
They walked a bit in silence, before Watson remembered where he was taking her. "I should warn you about my flatmate," he began.  
"Oh, yeah?"  
"Yeah," he said, sighing. "He can be a real…"  
"A real asshat?" she supplied.  
He burst out laughing. "Yes. He can be a real asshat. He's extremely intelligent but can't be bothered with anything unimportant. Unfortunately, that includes manners."  
"He sounds, er, fun," she said.  
"He can be," he agreed. Then, he halted and let go of her arm. "Ah, here we are," he said, as he opened the door, gesturing for her to go inside.  
She stepped aside a little, allowing him to walk past. He led her up the stairs and into the flat. He indicated a rather comfortable looking chair, then turned left into the kitchen to make tea.  
He returned a moment later with a pot and three cups. "Sherlock, I've brought company!" he called.  
He poked his head into the room, squinted, then retreated. "Yes, I can see that, John. An American girl, by the look of it."  
John sighed. "Yes, Sherlock. Now, are you going to join us, or not?"  
He swept into the room on a cloud of self-importance, and Y/N giggled.  
Sherlock frowned. "What's so funny?"  
"I've just never met someone whose ego enters the room before he does," she said.  
John choked on his tea as he began laughing again. He was starting to like this girl.  
"You've been crying," Sherlock began.  
"Even waterproof mascara doesn't --"  
Sherlock interrupted her. "You were crying somewhere in public, which means you've been doing it for a while and no longer care what anyone thinks. You came here to distract yourself from something -- a death, I'm guessing. But it obviously isn't working. Since it's taking you so long to get over it, I'd say it's family." He hesitated. "However, you came to England alone, so I'm going to say it's not blood."  
"Blood is overrated," she said, with a shrug.  
He glanced at John, then sat down. "Agreed."


End file.
